Alright, let’s talk about this. Thinking about “signs your football crush likes you”… man, that takes me back. It wasn’t exactly a player, mind you, but this whole idea of looking for ‘signs’ reminds me of something I went through years ago.
I used to follow my local team religiously. Home games, away games sometimes. There was this period, maybe a season or two, where I kept bumping into the same group of people. And there was this one guy, let’s call him Dave. Just a regular fan like me. We’d end up in the same pub before the match, maybe stand near each other on the terraces. Nothing major, just friendly nods, maybe a quick chat about the lineup.
But you know how it is. You see someone regularly, you share that buzz of the game, and things can get a bit… well, I started thinking maybe there was something there. A bit of a crush, yeah? So, I started doing that dumb thing: looking for signs.
It became like a second game happening alongside the actual football match. I was totally over-analyzing everything.
- Did he make eye contact when we scored?
- Did he happen to stand a bit closer when we were queuing for a halftime pie?
- He laughed when I shouted something stupid at the goalie – was that real laughter?
Honestly, it was exhausting. I spent more time trying to decode Dave’s random movements than watching the actual winger making runs down the flank. I was trying to piece together clues like some kind of detective, but the evidence was flimsy as hell. Maybe he was just being friendly? Maybe it was just coincidence we were in the same spot?
The Turning Point
This went on for weeks. Then came this one match, a really tense derby. Everyone was on edge. Something big happened on the pitch – I think it was a red card controversy. The whole stand erupted. People shouting, arguing, pure chaos. And where was I? I was trying to see if Dave looked over at me during the commotion. Pathetic, right?
I completely missed the incident itself. My mates were asking me what I thought, and I had absolutely no clue what had just happened. I felt like a complete idiot. I wasn’t even there for the football anymore.
That was the moment I kinda snapped out of it. I realised I’d gotten so wrapped up in this little personal drama, this “sign-seeking” mission, that I’d forgotten why I loved going in the first place. The game, the atmosphere, the shared passion with thousands of other people. I’d swapped all that for trying to read someone’s mind based on whether they bought a Bovril or a tea.
So, what did I do? I stopped. I consciously forced myself to stop scanning the crowd for him, stop wondering about the ‘meaning’ behind a casual chat. I went back to just watching the game. Shouting at the ref, celebrating goals properly, moaning about the defence with my actual friends.
And you know what? It was so much better. Dave was still around, we still chatted sometimes. Turned out he was just a genuinely nice bloke who talked to loads of people. There were no secret signs. He wasn’t dropping hints. It was all just… normal life happening at a football match. The ‘signs’ were just things my brain cooked up because I wanted them to be there.
So, yeah. Signs. Be careful looking for them too hard. Sometimes you find what you’re looking for, even if it isn’t really there. Just enjoy the game, enjoy being there. If someone likes you, you’ll probably know without needing a secret decoder ring. Usually works out better that way, I reckon. Less distracting from the actual football, too.
